


Look in the mirror (and ask your soul if you're alright)

by Band_obsessed



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Fluff, I promise it's cute at the end though, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Self-Hatred, destructive thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 11:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4304022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Band_obsessed/pseuds/Band_obsessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil’s day, in short, had sucked. So it wasn't much of a surprise when he finally snapped, hugging his knees to his chest, tears fast rolling down his cheeks, chest heaving as he tried to keep the sounds in.</p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>Phil has a bad day and Dan's not there to comfort him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look in the mirror (and ask your soul if you're alright)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! Hey again guys! This fanfiction idea has been circling around in my head for ages and I finally got it down on paper! 
> 
> This fic deals with mentions/implied depression so please don't read if this will trigger you.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this and if you ever need any help with this kind of stuff my Tumblr is: hollys7717xx so feel free to shoot me a message on there.
> 
> Enjoy! xx
> 
> (Title taken from 'before you start your day' by Twenty One Pilots)

Phil’s day, in short, had sucked. So it wasn't much of a surprise when he finally snapped, hugging his knees to his chest, tears fast rolling down his cheeks, chest heaving as he tried to keep the sounds in. Dan was out for the day, doing something with the BBC which left Phil all alone in the flat, the distance sounds of emptiness ricocheting off the walls, rolling throughout the apartment. 

He thought about everything that had gone wrong, the sink breaking, him dropping a mug, Dan leaving behind his phone so he couldn't even text him, the stress of a new video as well as some particularly spiteful comments. It had all piled up in the end, each thing that went wrong was building the tower higher and higher, and now it had just fallen over altogether. 

“Pull yourself together,” Phil muttered, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, relishing in the pain, biting his lip to try and stop it from wobbling, “you’re twenty eight years old, not a baby.” He finished, almost jeering at himself, words appearing in his mind, painted in neon yellow against the black of his eyes. Spiteful words, harmful words, some he read in comments, some he created, but they were there nonetheless, words like; freak, ugly, failure, stupid, pathetic. They flashed behind his eyelids like a movie he couldn't pause, mocking him, convincing him that they were true. Slowly the tears subsided, slowing to a halt, and the sadness ebbed away from his stomach, only to be replaced by nothingness, numbness, like a black hole in his chest, and soon he wasn’t feeling anything, not caring about anything.

He hadn't gotten this bad in around a year, and when he felt himself slipping, Dan was always there. Except this time he wasn’t. It was just Phil, just Phil and his mind, and Lord knows that that wasn’t good. It was all too easy for him to plaster on a smile, laugh and joke around for the camera and he guessed that that had taken its toll, because he wasn't always happy, and that’s what no one seemed to understand. He supposed it was his fault, he shouldn't have tried so hard, shouldn't have let all of it pile up. 

Allowing himself to slump down onto his covers, he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, limbs strewn out awkwardly, not really comfortable but he couldn't bring himself to move, couldn't bring himself to care. Seconds passed, then minutes, then hours, and Phil had no clue how long he’d be laying there for, but from the dimming lighting in the room he reckoned a while. 

It was the sound of a key in the lock that broke through the veil of his thoughts, and he considered sitting up, considered pasting on a smile as to not worry Dan, but when he tried to move he found he didn't have the will power, limbs like lead, even blinking felt like it sapped all of his energy. He vaguely heard footsteps, the sound of shoes being taken off followed by a voice, Dan’s voice, calling his name. He couldn’t respond, didn't want to respond, he just wanted to lay there, to sleep until it all went away. The footsteps got closer and closer, pausing outside his door before a harsh knock was rapped against the door, making Phil wince from the volume. When he didn't reply, Dan pushed down on the handle and opened the door, scanning the room until he found Phil on the bed. 

“Phil?” He asked quietly, walking over to sit on the bed next to him and Phil just blinked in response, eyes welling up with tears as he thought about how pathetic he must look, laying clad in only his boxers, dried tear stains on his cheeks, face splotchy and eyes red when it was probably way passed seven pm. Pathetic. 

“Phil, what’s wrong?” Dan tried again, laying down next to him, propping himself up on one arm, using his other hand to brush back Phil’s fringe, leaning down to press a kiss to his newly exposed skin. Phil sighed and shook his head, subconsciously leaning into Dan, the warmth drawing him in. Dan nodded, understanding what Phil meant before laying down fully next to him, pulling his smaller frame into his, slotting their limbs together. Phil sniffled, a tear rolling down his cheek and he didn't even know why, God, why couldn't he keep himself together? Bringing a thumb up to wipe it away, Dan pressed a gentle kiss against his lips, tasting salt water and coffee and Phil. 

“I’m sorry.” Phil spoke up eventually, the room now dark as the boys lay on the bed, voice cracking, hoarse from disuse, raw with emotion. Dan’s heart clenched painfully and he held Phil tighter, burying his nose into his hair, trying to console him in anyway possible.

“For what, Philly? You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your fault you get like this, you’re not to blame. You’re entitled to feel things just as much as anyone else is.” Dan replied, holding the elder tighter still, as if he could squeeze out the sadness, as if he could hug him hard enough that the broken pieces would slot back together. Phil nodded, burying his face into Dan’s chest, inhaling the calming scent of aftershave and vanilla and home. 

“I need the toilet.” Phil mumbled, voice monotone, like he was set to autopilot, mind not comprehending fully what he was saying and Dan nodded, sitting him up slowly, making sure to keep a supportive hand on his back. He knew what to do by now, he knew how to coax Phil out of his episodes, but he hadn’t seen him this bad in a while and he mentally kicked himself for leaving earlier. Sighing, Phil swung his legs over the side of the bed, knees buckling when he tried to stand up. Dam caught him before he could fall, wrapping a supportive arm under his armpits and helped him to half walk and half shuffle towards the bathroom. 

“Do you need help?” Dan asked, and Phil had to squeeze his eyes shut to stop the oncoming tears because he shouldn't need help going to the fucking bathroom, was he that much of a failure that he couldn't even use the goddamn toilet?! So he shook his head and willed his feet to move. Dan left the door open all the same, propping his body against the frame as he waited for Phil. He let Phil come back to him, watched him awkwardly shuffle and Dan’s heart broke slightly. He knew how this felt, he knew the helplessness, the way everything felt too heavy, like lead, like anchors pulling you deeper and deeper. 

“Hot chocolate.” Phil whispered, more of a statement than a question but Dan guessed that was because he couldn't find the will to use anything other than a monotone voice. In one fluid moment, Dan picked Phil up, carrying him bridal style, and walked with him into the lounge, placing him gently down on the sofa before standing up and pressing a kiss to his head. He pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over Phil’s frame, heading towards the kitchen after he’d done so. 

He was half way through making the hot chocolates when he heard shuffling footsteps and turned around to see Phil standing in the doorway, blanket wrapped around himself, a slight splash of colour on his cheeks, eyes still big and sad despite that.

“You feeling any better?” Dan asked, walking over to Phil when he’d put the hot chocolate in the microwave, leaning down slightly to rest his forehead on Phil’s, smiling and pressing a kiss to the bridge of his nose. Phil tried to smile back, the corner of his mouth tugging up slightly before falling back down again. He brought his arms to wrap around Dan’s back, fisting his t-shirt with one hand, the other resting over his shoulder blade, the blanket falling to the floor. Nuzzling his face into Dan’s neck, Phil pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin, causing Dan to shiver slightly, an arm wrapping around Phil’s lower back, the other hand in his hair, gently carding his fingers through the silky strands.

The beeping of the microwave pulled them apart, piercing through the bubble they’d made and Dan tilted Phil’s chin up with his index finger and his thumb, gazing into his eyes before pressing his lips against Phil’s, setting a slow, gentle rhythm, pulling Phil impossibly closer to him. He pulled back when the microwave beeped again, and Phil managed half a smile, standing on tiptoes to place a last chaste kiss on Dan’s lips. 

“I love you, Phil.” Dan murmured, entwining his fingers with Phil’s as he led them both over to the microwave, pulling out the jug of liquid and pouring it into two mugs. Phil sighed somewhat contently, keeping his body firmly pressed into Dan’s side.

“I love you more.” He replied and Dan smiled when he noticed Phil’s voice wasn't so robotic anymore. 

“C’mon then. Let’s go put something on the TV, yeah?” Dan asked rhetorically, Phil following close behind him, retrieving his blanket from the floor before sitting down on the sofa and draping it over his shoulders once again. Dan picked out a movie from the shelf and slotted it into the player, the TV light illuminating the room in a pale blue as it turned on. After pressing play on the film, Dan took a seat next to Phil, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and pulling him into his chest.

They broke apart occasionally to take small sips from the mugs, hot chocolate warming their bodies as they drank it, and, as Phil lay burrowed into Dan’s chest, he could feel the numbness slowly start to ebb, like receding waves on a shore, and the last coherent thing he thought about was brown eyes and chocolate kisses before his eyes slipped shut and sleep carried him away.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! xx


End file.
